Artificial Exemplar
by Maygin
Summary: The Winchester boys and a fallen hero.


**Artificial Exemplar**

By: Maygin

Summary: The Winchester boys and a fallen hero.

Sidenote: There is a bit of language in this one, and a death of a major character (I think you'll be okay though… just trust me) Dean is 14, Sam is 10.

Sidenote to the Sidenote: I'd love a review if you think about it. Flamers are welcome and will be mocked incessantly in my next story. Seriously though, let me know if you think something could've been better or what you liked.

Sidenote Cubed: If you like this story, you might try my other Supernatural fic, Hoodwink.

Disclaimer: I am not making any money off of nor do I own anything supernatural… other than my roommate.

**Artificial Exemplar**

Sam winced as another chemically edible monstrosity bounced off his forehead. This one was red, the color of blood; which in some insane way was better than the yellows and greens that seemed to be the pattern for the past 15 minutes. He took a deep, calming breath knowing that acknowledging the incongruous act would only spur the miscreant further. It just didn't help his patience when the little critters would actually stick to his face for a few seconds before sliding off because some idiot had the brilliant idea of actually licking the dyed glutton before turning it into a projectile.

If walking away would've helped, he'd have done it by now. Unfortunately for the 10 year old, his older brother was stuck at home with him while their dad was away on a hunt. And what's worse, he was bored. And when Dean was bored… evil things abound. This night, the evil manifested itself in a rainbow assortment of the much loved snack… the gummie bear.

"Aw, man! Was that a red one?" Dean shifted slightly from his position, sprawled out on the couch, the bag of offending gummie bears resting on his lap. Sam's response was to simply lift his eyes from the book he was buried in, glaring a hole into his brother's head. Dean caught sight of the sugary missile lying in the middle of his younger brother's book and held his hand out like a catcher. "Here, toss that back."

Sam lifted his head now, an incredulous look dawning his features. "Do I look stupid?"

Dean matched his brother's expression. "Hell yeah!"

And so it began, the stare down to defy all stare down's. A battle of wills. Had their father been there he would've taken a rolled up newspaper to both their heads and told them to do something more productive with their time, like sharpening their knives or cleaning their guns. In his absence however the boys were free to be as wild and rambunctious as they could be… and so they sat, silently staring one another down… counting the number of ticks from the hanging wall clock and loosing count when a stray cricket would chime in.

It suddenly occurred to youngest Winchester that he'd fallen into his brother's trap. He was playing into his brother's game. A little voice in his head sighed and spoke plainly… _time to take the high road Sam, be the bigger man_. Decision made, he lifted a single eye-brow at his brother, positioned his hand behind the red gummie bear still resting on his book and flicked the offending object across the room.

Dean broke eye contact to watch his favorite flavor soar across the sparse living room and land in an exceptionally large dust-bunny. He shook his head sadly and turned back to his brother. "You know I could almost handle such a horrific act on maybe Mr. Lime or Mr. Lemon," he shook his head again, disappointment clear in his eyes, "but Mr. Churbie? What did he ever do to you other than," he lifted the bag of gummie bears, eyes drawn to the colorful packaging, "fill your mouth with a burst of spine-tingling flavor?"

Sam almost laughed, but held it in for pride's sake. "Mr. Churbie?"

"Yeah, it's code." Dean stated proudly, smiling.

"Code?" Sam's eyes roamed the room as his mind spun. "So," his voice was hesitant, yet tainted with humor, "out of cherry, gummie and bear, you somehow got… Cherbie?"

Dean's smile fell. "What?" he asked defensively.

"Nothing." Sam bit down on his lips, at least giving a good effort at not smiling. It wasn't working. "I'm just glad you're my brother."

"Yeah well you damn well should be."

"I mean," Sam shrugged non-chalantly, "if this whole hunting thing doesn't work out for us, Dad and I could always sell you for medical study." As he was finishing off his sentence, he had to duck behind his book as a handful of gummie bears were suddenly rocketing towards him.

"Bitch." Dean said, not unkindly. In some small way he was proud of his brother's choice of humor; it reminded him of… well- him. His eye caught sight of another red gummie mixed in with the ones he'd just chucked across the room, right before his brother shook them all off onto the floor. "Aw man, look what you did." He gestured to his beloved.

Sam's eyes fell to the floor seeing his crime. "I suppose you're going to tell me it wasn't Mr. Churbie's fault he hit me in the face?"

"Mr. Churbie's a friggin gummie bear Sammy; he can't hit you. You just killed an innocent." Sam expertly gave his brother the 'oh my god, he's lost it' look. But Dean wasn't backing down; he was in full debate mode. "Would you kill a man if he were possessed by an evil spirit?"

"No." Sam said defensively.

"Even if he did some horrible things while possessed?"

Sam slumped, head tilted. "Dean, it's – a – gummie bear." He emphasized.

"It's a gummie bear that was used against his will." He said matter-of-factly. "And you just up and killed him." He shook his head. "I gotta say I'm a little worried about taking you on hunts Sammy with that attitude."

Sam did his best impression of the Spock eyebrow. "You are such a drama queen."

Dean blinked, and once again Sam had a Mr. Lemon stuck to his cheek. Sam sighed heavily, closed his book and walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a paper towel, wet it and wiped his face clean once more. Suddenly the door bell rang… again.

"Your turn!" Dean shouted from the other room.

Sam rolled his eyes with a sigh, threw the rag into the trash bin and walked down the front hall. He grabbed a handful of candy from a bowl sitting next to the door. There was a reason why he hated Halloween. It wasn't just because evil things were rampant and it was impossible to tell the difference between a drunken spoiled teenager decked out in a zombie costume and the real thing… it was the fact that every five minutes some little brat dressed up as lord knows what came hanging on their doorbell with their mother and father smiling and taking pictures in the background. The first couple years they'd simply ignored them; but after finding rotting egg goop sliding down their front door each time, they realized it was better to just play along with the rest of polite society.

Sam pulled the door open and looked down at his next small group of nemesis; instead what he saw were two huge, hairy, scaled feet. He slowly worked his eyes up, taking in the massive oily thighs, and the solid, scaled chest rippling with muscles, and then the wide shoulders covered in what looked like crow feathers, and lastly the noggin… the most ugly mug Sam had ever witnessed in his small life. A flat, bony nose, two huge black, lidless eyes, a lipless mouth full of sharp fangs, dripping with saliva, and finally two long slits that looked almost like gills on the cheeks that slick black oil seemed to seep out of at every breath.

The youngest Winchester wanted more than anything to be able to congratulate this poor schmuck on his well-thought out costume… unfortunately his Daddy didn't raise no fool. Before the boy could take a step back though or cry out for his brother, an enormous hand latched around his neck and lifted. He couldn't scream, but more importantly, he couldn't breath. And yet the hand tightened. The monster brought Sam's face close to its own, and for a moment Sam was insanely grateful he couldn't breath, for he was certain the creature's breath would've killed him instantly.

He kicked and punched for all he was worth. _This is ridiculous_, he thought. _My brother is not more than 15 feet away from me in the next room! _The thought of Dean coming to check on him and finding a corpse instead spurred him on. He flung his arms and legs around, trying to find something, _anything_ to kick or make noise with. Godzilla here seemed to catch on however and captured one of his wrists in it's other 'hand'. It lifted him up higher and out of reach of the door and side windows.

The youngest Winchester struggled vainly as the spots began settling in his vision. The last thing he could see in the overwhelming black haze was the light from the porch light over-head. _The porch light! _Using the last of his strength, he took a swing upwards and then promptly slipped into the darkness as his brain gave up trying to summon oxygen.

Dean carefully separated the yellow and greens from the rest of the pack, making a nice little pile that would be ready for action when his kid brother returned. The sudden crash and tingling of glass shards bouncing on wooden planks seized his attention immediately. He leapt from the couch, green and yellow gummie bears tumbling to the floor.

"Sam?" His first thought was that some punk teenagers were throwing beer bottles at their house. What he saw when he turned the corner however froze his blood. It wasn't that he wasn't used to seeing creatures like this… although this one sure took the fugly award. It was more that it was so unexpected, and their father wasn't there to help. But seeing his brother hanging there by the neck and wrist in the monster's clutches seemed to ignite something. He'd always protected his little brother on hunts, but for some reason, alone, without their father there to lead the charge, a new surge of something fierce rushed through his veins.

He turned to the trunk in the front hall, threw the lid up and pulled the first weapon his hands fell to. In one fluid motion, he stood, turned and aimed, his father's prized possession resting comfortably in his hands. The monster snorted at the new threat, dropped his current prize and gave a mighty roar that would've impressed King Kong.

Dean watched his brother drop like a sack of potatoes and didn't hesitate. He fired the crossbow. He didn't wait to see if he'd hit home, he turned back to the trunk and pulled out their spare rifle already filled with rock salt. He turned back and almost smacked into the monster's abdomen. He barely had time to register that his arrow was imbedded in the creatures shoulder still before a huge arm collided with his chest, throwing him backwards into the kitchen. He landed roughly, but was able to roll with it back onto his feet. He yanked open one of the drawers and pulled out the biggest knife he could find as colossus came thundering towards him again.

He took a swipe and managed to catch the creature along the arm. Unfortunately it only seemed to piss it off as Dean once more found himself flying backwards into the living room this time. He felt his ankle twist painfully the wrong way and slid backwards into the couch. He turned halfway and reached under the davenport, pulling out another of their many hidden weapons. This time it was a glass flask. He threw it as hard as he could at the advancing behemoth and took a small joy in the way it shattered, holy water and tiny shards of glass drenching its chest.

His joy however was short lived as the creature swung a mighty arm down and practically shoved Dean across the living room floor. He smacked into the wall and painfully rolled to his side. He was out of options, and _smelly_ here was standing over him with its huge hand, which had seemingly grown claws in the past 5 seconds, stretched out and ready to serve a killing blow. Dean's hands searched for something, _anything_ he could use as a weapon. He picked up the first thing his fingers fumbled upon and threw it as hard as he could.

The monster paused dumbly with a snort as a red gummie bear bounced off its forehead. It looked down at the offending object and then slowly fell face forward to the floor, sending tremors through the foundations of the house before disappearing in a cloud of black smoke. Dean, who had quickly pushed himself to the side to avoid becoming a pancake, stared in shock, mouth agape at the turn of events. He blinked, looking at the red gummie bear, and then the dead creature at his feet. It was then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

There sat Sammy, leaning against the doorframe between the front hallway and the living room. His little brother closed the thick book resting in his lap and then with shaking hands, pushed it off to the floor with a thump. Their eyes locked and remained locked in state of shock.

"I think-" Dean swallowed down the fear that had so gripped him earlier, "you owe Mr. Churbie and apology."

"For what?" Sam rasped painfully, slumping further down the door frame.

"For saving our assess." Dean grunted as he painfully made his way across the floor towards his younger brother.

"Thanks Mr. Churbie." Sam obeyed distractedly, his voice scratchy and hoarse. Dean reached his brother with a small frown; he could clearly see the glassy look in his brother's eyes and knew he was on the verge of passing out again. He helped maneuver him more comfortably to the floor, glancing at the book lying on the floor next to them; _Latin Thaumaturgy_. He smirked, it was the only book his little brother didn't feel guilty reading around their father since it taught him Latin and the many uses of it with the supernatural. It had actually come in handy quite a bit lately as they'd run across more and more bumps in the night. This night being no exception; he had no idea what magical incantation his brother had managed to grate out of his damaged throat, but whatever it was had done the trick.

He laid a hand on his brother's chest to make sure he was breathing okay before painfully sliding down next to him. He didn't even have the strength to close the front door much less crawl to the couch for a more comfortable arrangement as his adrenaline left him tired and sore. He closed his eyes and drifted.

"So let me get this straight," John Winchester sat on his bed, cleaning and bandaging his youngest son's hand, the other son watching diligently next to him, "you were watching a documentary on _entropy and quantitative measurements_," he looked at Sam, and then turned his gaze upon his older son "when a _gigando_ monster with bad breath busted down the door," he let go of the bandaged hand and then gently tapped his finger under his son's chin who promptly tilted his head back, "tried to make Sam's eyeballs pop out of his head," he put some more ointment on the bruising around his neck, "threw Dean across the room like a _boneless monkey_," he turned towards his oldest son and gestured for him to lean back while he gently lifted the ankle and started wrapping it, "growled and spit and farted like a gaseous red-neck," he laid the ankle down and then shifted on the bed, folding his hands and resting them on his lap, "and then was _vanquished…_ by a red - cherry - gummie bear?"

The room was silent for a few seconds as Dean and Sam looked at each other.

"He was… very big" Dean confirmed.

"And you did look like a boneless monkey." Sam agreed.

John snorted quietly and rolled his eyes. "I can't leave you two alone for five minutes. You know most fathers are worried about their kids getting mixed up with drugs and alcohol, but you two… you boys mess around with gaseous red-necks." Dean and Sam laughed. "I suppose I should be grateful."

"Damn straight." Dean shifted and started scooting towards the edge of the bed.

"Hey, watch your mouth in front of your brother." John chastised half-heartedly. Sam looked at his father stupidly.

"Ha!" Dean scoffed as he slowly limped his way to the connecting bathroom. "You should've heard him tonight! He was cussing like a sailor-"

"What!" Sam squeaked, having some-what regained his voice.

"I think he even made g_igando_ blush."

"Wha- That is just- so…. far beyond the realm of truth." Sam stuttered passionately. Dean however ignored him as he shut the bathroom door. Sam turned to his father to defend his honor when he was cut off.

"What the-!" Dean cried from the bathroom. John Winchester hastily followed his youngest son into the bathroom where his oldest was looking quite shell shocked. "What the hell did you do!" Dean yelled in disbelief. Before the three Winchester men sat a sink full of pink water. And in the pink water floated several dozen red gummie bears; all in a state of disintegration. Wide-eyed, Dean looked at his brother.

Sam shrugged innocently. "It's holy water."

"Holy shit is what it is!" Dean yelled back. "What the hell's the matter with you!"

Sam pursued the innocent 11 year old act with the tilt of his head. "You were right Dean. It's not the gummie bears fault that they were being used in such deviant ways. So I decided to help them out…" it was here that he smiled proudly and gestured to the sink of floating fruit snacks, "I exorcised them… from their demon."

Dean stood there, dumbfounded, looking back and forth between his brother, the gummie bears and his father… completely speechless. John Winchester slowly brought a hand up to his mouth, trying to cover the laughter that so desperately wanted to escape.

"But…" Dean mourned, "…Mr. Churbie," he whimpered.

Sam's smile turned supportive as he moved to Dean's side. He laid a hand on his brother's shoulder and sighed, "I'm sorry Dean, but he'll always live on in our hearts."

And with that, the Winchester brothers watched the floating corpses slowly melt away. A silent moment for their vanquished hero.

THE END… maybe

For those of you who actually enjoyed this piece of insanity, the link below might interest you. Be sure to check out the most recent submission at the very bottom… I think you'll find it near and dear to your hearts.


End file.
